


Even Steven

by murdergatsby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Being Cut, Bloodplay, Bottom Will, Choking, Cuddly Hannibal, Dirty Talk, Dom Hannibal, Dom Will, Everything else has been discussed prior and consented to, Fantasy Oral, Hate Sex, I promise, Knifeplay, M/M, Marking, Murder Kink?, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Power Dynamics, Referenced Masturbation, Restraints, Scars, Smut, Sub Hannibal, Sub Will, Teasing, Top Hannibal, Verger Brand, Will Graham Owns Hannibal Lecter's Ass, Will has a murder kink, Will is always a little shit, a little fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You branded me like cattle." Will continued, regarding Hannibal's face as if he planned on this being the last time he'd ever see it. "I just want us to be even.” </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will plays with Hannibal's knives, and pays him back for all his scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am a mom at heart, I've got to put this disclaimer here: Please practice safe knife play.
> 
> This fic is a terrible example of safety. A lot of unsafe things happen in this. These two are irresponsible, cannibal/murders and aren't overtly concerned with how dangerous cutting your partner up can be. You should be. Do your own research on the safety of this before participating with a partner, please.
> 
> Do not be them, just read about them.  
> And I hope you enjoy. :)

The boarders of his vision were tainted by storm clouds, black and soft. His head felt held, like palms were pressing into him at his temples. The spine that supported his skull felt disconnected and as if it were made of jelly; it flopped his head over his shoulders with an absence of grace as Hannibal tried to regain full consciousness.

The contents of the room came to him one object at a time, his situation coming together one object at a time. Hannibal was set up in his dining room, tied by his wrists and ankles to a chair that should have marked the head of the table. Instead it was pulled aside from the dining set entirely, singled out on the hardwood. The chair was armless, leaving his wrists to be bound to the back legs of the chair with a silken rope that matched those on his ankles. His shoulders were cramped and slumped at an unnatural and uncomfortable position, but that wasn’t the thing that drew the most of his attention.

His gaze was stuck on the only other person in the room: Will. Will was dressed classically in white and black- the way Hannibal liked him. He wore polished shoes and his hair was neatly brushed. His appearance caused Hannibal to be aware of his own attire, only wearing the dark sleeping pants he had worn to bed.

“I feel awfully underdressed.” Hannibal said, clearing his throat as he tried to shake the last bits of grogginess from his mind.

Will turned his head in Hannibal’s direction just enough to let Hannibal know that he had heard him, then turned back to his own hands. He stood beside the dining table, fondling the un-sharpened edge of a paring knife. He rolled the cool metal against his hand a few times before slipping it back into its place in Hannibal’s kitchen block. He had relocated the entire block from its respective place in the kitchen to have it act as a centerpiece on the table for his specific event. Its colors clashed with the cherry-washed wood that adorned their current room, and Will knew some part of that would cause further irritation to brew within his partner. It was the intention.

“Did you drug me?” Hannibal asked when Will didn’t speak. There was no heat or aggression to his accusation, he just sounded curious as to what the answer was.

Will nodded and removed a second knife, a boning knife, from the block. He had been considering his options for a while as he waited for Hannibal to stir. This was his favorite for a number of reasons.

He copied his previous motions with the paring knife with this knife, feeling the safe side of the blade on his palm before finally turning himself to face Hannibal fully. He fought to express a gasp as he visually accepted what he had created for himself.

The look of Hannibal hardly able to hold himself upright, with unsteady eyes and so much skin exposed, was a thing of true magnificence. Hannibal already looked so defeated and Will had yet to begin.

“I did.” Will confirmed verbally. “I find it’s much easier to get someone somewhere they don’t want to be, if they’re not all aware of where there are in the first place.” He explained, arching a single eyebrow and taking on a whimsical tone. He took a few steps forward to close some of the distance between the two of them. “You taught me that.”

Hannibal kept his eyes locked on Will’s, not yet letting himself get distracted by the knife he spun apprehensively in his hands. He still felt thick with whatever it was Will had given him, but being aware of where this feeling came from made it easier to fight off.

“What are we doing here, Will?” Hannibal asked. His tone felt just a fraction more hostile this time.

Will looked down at him like a prize. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth while he rocked his head in contemplation. “It occurred to me that,” Will said, letting his gaze wander up and down Hannibal’s bare chest. “I’ve never had the opportunity to _properly_ mark you.”

Hannibal tilted his expression with curiosity. “Yes you have.” He argued. He pulled tightly on his wrists, desperate for the knots to give out. They didn’t, of course, and wouldn’t anytime soon. Will was a fisherman after all.

Instead, he turned his arms to expose the whispery silver lines that were once gory lacerations left on him by a man under Will’s influence to do so. He smiled at the memory. “You’ve marked me.”

 “Not technically.” Will shook his head and twisted smile crawled over his lips, as if he had placed something of ill flavor on his tongue. “And not the _way_ you’ve marked me.”

Hannibal’s lips turned into a downward crescent as he swallowed hard. He rolled his shoulders, hoping to relieve some of their tension. For the most part it worked; He was allowed to sit upright without feeling the painful internal knots pulling across his back.

Will moved in closer, this time not stopping until his legs were tapping against Hannibal’s knees. They fell apart at Will’s touch. Both of Will’s arms rested at his sides, knife still in his relaxed grip as his fingers played with the curves of the handle.

Will lifted his free hand and pointed at his own head. “You've marked me in here.” He explained. “Emotionally and mentally carving me while you messed with my identity but,” He paused to shrug dramatically. His whole body was involved in convincing Hannibal he was at a loss for words. He acted is if he were deciding on those words now, despite the fact he had practiced this speech for days.

Hannibal finally let his eyes drop to the blade for a moment, to keep an eye on it- as if the knife may act independently.

“That wasn’t enough for you.” Will finally said, bringing Hannibal’s attention back up to his face. “You could argue that I’ve marked you that way. I did change you.” For a moment he appeared hurt; his eyes softened and his shoulders slumped. “But mental scarring wasn’t deep _enough_ in the end. Not for you.” Will stepped in closer still, filling all the space Hannibal’s parted legs had created. “You wanted to make sure the whole world knew what you had done to me, and who you were to me.”

Hannibal remained quiet the entire time Will spoke. He changed his point of focus from the knife, to Wills face, and then back. He never settled on one view for very long.

“So, you gutted me.” Will pulled up his shirt to reveal his stomach as he spoke, and the long lateral scar that still and would always occupy the space. “So that I couldn’t show myself to another person without them asking ‘what happened?’” His voiced lowered as his chest rose with each centering breathe. He was hissing like a cat in defense. “I couldn’t fuck another person without telling them all about Dr. Hannibal _fucking_ Lecter.”

Will bent down, placing a hand on either of Hannibal’s knees. The handle of Will’s knife hit him uncomfortably between his leg bones and knee cap, making it squirm beneath Will’s grasp and against the bindings still tight on his ankle.

“Hannibal the Cannibal.” Will said, almost playfully. “The killer I let into my head and my life, over, and over, and over again.” As he spoke he brought his face in closer, until he was speaking directly into Hannibal’s mouth. He was careful not to touch him with his lips. 

The heat from Will's breath on his face caused Hannibal's skin to crawl, but not away. The words fleeing Will's mouth made Hannibal's body feel tight, warmth building beneath his lungs and reaching up his back like fingernails. He wanted to curl up and lean into this boy. He wanted to feel him more than just the pressure of his hands on his knees and exhales on his skin. He found himself desperate for Will to kiss him.

Will pulled away rather suddenly in comparison to how slowly he’d been moving. The knife came up on Hannibal flesh, meeting with the skin on the underside of his jaw. He flipped the handle of the knife around in his hand so that it was the sharp side doing the touching, and he watched Hannibal’s chin raise with it. Hannibal wore a mask of smug confidence, and Will returned the expression.

Will's grip on the knife became more passionate. Hannibal knew those knives and he knew how sharp he kept them; Will hadn’t cut him yet but Hannibal knew it would only take the slightest movement for him to be split.

“You branded me like cattle." Will continued, regarding Hannibal's face as if he planned on this being the last time he'd ever see it. "I just want us to be even.” Will wasn’t looking at Hannibal anymore, but where his knife was headed.

“And, I want to watch you bleed.”

The punctuation of his statement was found in the blade being dropped to Hannibal’s chest and slicing him across his left peck.

Hannibal could see the muscles of Will’s arm contract before he moved the knife, leaving him with a millisecond of time to believe that Will may actually cut him open where the knife originally rested- slicing through his neck as Hannibal had known he’d fantasized about in the past.

But Will would _never_. Not after all they’ve been through. This was just a game.

Hannibal growled low in his throat. His nose crinkled, lifting his upper lip as if he were barring his teeth. The cut wasn’t very deep but it burned. The pain grew out over his skin like a current trapped, bouncing off barriers that didn’t exist. The numbing edge the drugs may have given him had drifted away to only leave a quiet hum in the back of his head.

Will pulled the knife from Hannibal's skin the moment he was done cutting him to give himself a full and uninterrupted view of the blood that bubbled up to the surface. It came up uneven and patchy when Will wanted a clean red line, which was disappointing. He brought the knife down to Hannibal’s chest two more times, with more pressure and moving quicker. Those cuts bled cleaner and brighter.

The sight emotionally moved him, making his jaw fall in a soft, vocal gasp. When Will broke eye contact with the drips of crimson cascading down Hannibal’s chest, he met Hannibal with a smile and wet eyes.

Hannibal was still growling- a rumble to follow each inhale. He wasn't in the position to do much else with his annoyance.

Pleased by Hannibal's responses thus far, Will brushed over the blood with the curious fingertips of his un-knifed hand. He spread the forming drops across Hannibal’s skin like finger paints, playing with it within the hairs on the older man’s chest. He could feel Hannibal body sink and tremble with each breath he took in. Hannibal was trying to keep himself orderly but Will knew exactly where he stood. 

Will raised his attention back to Hannibal’s face when the skin of his hand was copper in color, leaning in to speak into his ear. “Are you enjoying this as much as I thought you would?” He whispered. His voice had dropped down to something so soft that Hannibal felt inclined to check the room for a third party- someone able to listen in to these words Will was treating like a secret.

Will's palm was flat against Hannibal’s wounds. He squeezed there, feeling through his ribcage for the steady heartbeat that hid underneath. He could feel the blood building under his touch. He wanted to stay there and wait, to see if it would seep through his fingers. 

“Your heart never races like I long for it to.” Will dragged his hand down to Hannibal’s waist and dropped his head to his chest, gracefully getting into a squatting stance to support the position. A streaked hand-print was left as a reminder of where his hand had been. 

“I want to hear your body beg for me, Hannibal.” Will said, his voice still in that painfully-soft, secret-keeping whisper. He was always careful as to when he used Hannibal’s first name, wielding it like a secret weapon and knowing what the sound of it coming from his mouth did to Hannibal.

Will brought his face into Hannibal’s body, closing his tongue over the slashes he had created. He tasted him, letting the blood collect on the broad of his tongue so he could lap it into his mouth. He used the tip of his tongue to part the wounds, spreading them open and tearing into new places. He wanted to be close to Hannibal just as much as he wanted to hurt him; he was nuzzling into the mess he was creating, and adoring every sensation that came with it.

Hannibal's hips lifted off the chair and his head fell back in a moment of sudden ecstasy. His mouth was open but his throat was closed, suppressing the moan his body wanted to secrete. Will's force stung but the presence of his hand, still on his waist and massaging him there, was enough to drive the immediate pain away. It was replaced with a dull ache drilling into his belly while Will licked at his chest with sloppy abandon. 

Will lifted his head to expose eyes half-lidded and messy curls that stuck to his forehead with a sweat neither of them had realized he had built up. His mouth and chin were stained harvest orange, lips parted and hungry for oxygen. His appearance was completely undone and Hannibal fully shuttered along with the loud visual.

Will collected the last remnants of blood that lingered in his mouth and swallowed hard. He moved the blade again, this time leading it up the inside of Hannibal's spread thighs as he stayed crouched between them. It caught against the fabric of his pants, causing it to bunch and the knife to leap ahead unevenly. It wasn’t pressed hard enough to cut the fabric but the adrenalin that came with the possibility was exhilarating.

“ _Do you_ like this, Hannibal?" Will asked.

Hannibal replied with only a stubborn groan that could be misconstrued as disinterest, but Will knew better.

A smile flashed on Will’s face, exposing red-tinted teeth. He purposely manipulated his hand so that his knuckles brushed against Hannibal’s cock as he continued to move the knife.

Hannibal was hard and there wasn’t anything he could do to hide that fact from Will. All he could do was sit and try to look as irritated as he wished he was by Will’s teasing, shifting against his touch. 

Amusement filled Will like ants, racing up the interior of his lungs. He laughed to let them escape. “I didn’t realize I could have just checked here, for an answer.” He said mischievously.

Will waited, giving Hannibal a moment to speak that he didn’t take. He then placed his knife along the downward-curve of Hannibal’s hip. “We can match.” He suggested, twisting the blade in a pinpoint that broke through his skin. “ _Matching smiles_.”

Blood dribbled from the point of the knife but Will didn’t move to truly cut him again- Not yet. Instead he raised the blade slowly up Hannibal’s body. His touch on the knife was so light, so tender as he moved, that the sharp ache made Hannibal want to compare it to tickling. He traced the contours of Hannibal’s stomach and chest, then lead the blade under Hannibal’s right arm and around to his back. He forced his hand between wood and flesh, and then pulled the knife forward.

Hannibal was split from his mid-back to the front of his ribcage. No warning came with this assault, as it had come with the others, causing the moan Hannibal had been fighting so hard to suppress to finally escape into the room. This cut was deeper, bleeding darker and thicker as his skin parted. He struggled against his restraints.

“Oh,” Will said with the tiniest shake in his voice. It didn’t feel like a conscious sound, much like Hannibal’s moan.

He grabbed Hannibal’s shoulder and forced him as forward as his body would allow so that he could see. Blood was spilling from him on to the red fabric that covered the center panel of the chair. Will’s knife had severed the head of the iron-brand-boar that lived on Hannibal’s spine- which was Will’s intention.

“Oops.” Will continued, letting Hannibal rest back against the chair as he was before. “That’s going to stain the chair.” He did well to not allow any further shaking to break the surface of his voice, even though his internal struggle to do so was violent.

Hannibal didn’t respond verbally, only continuing with his smug and confident facade in anticipation of his further chastisement. He could feel the fresh wound on his back continue to spread open as the fibers of the chair scratched at it.

Will brought the knife to rest again, this time against the base of Hannibal’s throat. Hannibal’s expression changed to one of bliss almost instantly. 

Will raised himself and leaned into him, pressing his lips to the muscle just behind Hannibal’s ear. “You’ve looked at me that way before.” He began, all while slowly pulling blade down from Hannibal’s neck in the direction of his belly. “When you look at me that way, it gives me the idea that you would be proud if I finished this, right here.”

Will paused once again, to allow Hannibal to consider this, but kept moving the knife. He felt Hannibal’s body twisting under the knife’s influence, sharp gasps getting caught in his lungs as he obstinately tried to guard Will from hearing his pleasure. Will only stopped the knife when it reached Hannibal’s bellybutton. He pulled away from the man, allowing himself to view his progress. This new cut wasn’t very deep at all, hardly enough to bring any fresh blood to the surface, but it did visually sever Hannibal’s body in two. Collar to naval.

“I would.” Hannibal said, surprisingly, through a deep and gravelly voice. Hannibal could feel his blood on his chest and back still dripping like candle wax, but he kept his eyes on Will.

The sound seemed to pull Will out of the trance he’d been in. He lifted his gaze back to Hannibal’s face, curiosity taking control of his eyebrows again. In a moment of weakness, Will let his body groan around Hannibal’s words. He pulled himself back together quickly but it hadn’t prevented Hannibal from taking note.

“I would be proud if you killed me.” Hannibal said, repeating Will’s claim for added explanation. He was happy to have caught Will’s attention just as powerfully as Will had caught his tonight, and every night. He was going to milk it for all he could. “You’re the only person I’d let kill me.” 

It was just a part of the game, Will knew. Hannibal was just trying to get Will back in the only way he could with his body bound the way it was. Regardless, the statement snared around Will’s heart with a romantic tug that glossed his eyes with tears again. He let himself ponder over whether or not he thought it was true; if he spilled the contents of Hannibal’s throat out, right here and now, would it be pride that filled him as he died? 

“Do you like the sound of that, Will?” Hannibal continued, mirroring the teasing cadence Will had spoken to him just moments ago. Hannibal allowed his eyes to settle on the crotch of Will’s pants, where it was obvious that he was just as desperate for more as Hannibal was. His pants were dark in color but not dark enough to conceal the wet stain of pre-come as it seeped through the fabric.

Will sliced Hannibal again, crossing through the previous cuts made to his chest, turning them all into Xs. With the same movement, he knotted the fingers of his free hand into Hannibal's hair and tugged him backwards. “Be careful of the temptations you offer me, _Hannibal_.”

Will’s voice was rough and his movements were hostile, but Hannibal could hear the unmistakable vibration in his tone that always came with Will’s provocation. Will was loving this and Hannibal tried not to smile along with his victory. 

Will stood upright and away from him, suddenly. The height change made Hannibal feel as if he were being towered over, hidden under the shadow of Will’s presence. He didn’t mind it in this circumstance.

Will took the blade off Hannibal’s body completely, going back to twisting it in his own hand. He took himself back to the clear memory of what Hannibal had first looked like, at the start of his conquest. He admired his work’s development.

With all the blood dripping from him, his sweat turning his skin to glistening gold, and the hiss that _still_ followed each compression of his lungs…He was a work of art that Will allowed himself to get lost in.

It was dreadful to see a predator in such a state of dismay, and Will had come to accept his love for dread. He was ecstatic to have been granted this moment. The only thing he’d change about it was to be gifted with the ability to do it again, from the beginning, or to just keep cutting him now. Will knew when to stop to get his desired effect though and, unless he wanted Hannibal to turn into more flesh than human, this was when he needed to stop.

He turned his attention solely to the knife. The metal was lightly drizzled with Hannibal’s blood, reminding him of red icing on a pastry. Careful not to cut his tongue, Will licked it all away. He kept his eyes locked with Hannibal’s as he dragged his tongue along the length of the metal, pressing the flat end of the knife into the tip. Hannibal’s eyes were weak for the sight.

Will had planned on ending his teasing there, putting the knife away and moving on to the real thing. He imagined getting on his knees, tugging the waist of Hannibal’s pants over his ass, and taking him in his mouth while listening to Hannibal struggle through being unable to knot his fingers in Will’s hair…but something about the cool metal and the taste of Hannibal’s torture inspired him. He smiled.

“I wish I could experience your taste the same way you can experience mine.” Will said, simply, as he lifted the knife to his lips again.

Hannibal’s expression entered the realm of plead rapidly. His mouth turned downward and he felt himself lean forward without any clear intention. He knew what Will was going to do next and some deep part of him wanted to stop him. It was going to hurt and it was going to have consequences.

Of course, the more present part of him couldn’t wait to watch Will act reckless. He wanted to scream for it.

Will stuck his tongue out from his mouth and pressed the blade of the knife against it. He pulled down, slicing the surface of center. Blood instantly began spilling from the incision, dripping from his mouth and down his chin. He gasped as the knife left him, soaking in the boiling pain he had caused himself, before bending back into Hannibal and slipping his tongue into his mouth.

Hannibal accepted him as if he were starving. He _was_ starving. Will’s blood filling his mouth and smearing along his lips was a fantasy he never though would leave the realm of his mind. His sense of control was lost to it as he kissed him, wishing he could reach a hand up in his hair and pull on him. His hands balled into white-knuckled fists as they were denied this action (Just as Will had imagined).

Will pulled himself into Hannibal’s lap, dropping the knife and straddling him. While he let his hips lift and fall to a pattern, he wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and shoulders to promise himself leverage. His lips spilled an assortment of ungodly sounds into Hannibal’s mouth as he undignifiedly polished himself against his body.

Hannibal was able to feel Will’s erection as it rubbed against his stomach. He let his teeth drag against Will’s sensitive tongue and listened for the hitches in his breath that came with it. He could feel the blood on his chest, tacky and drying, sticking to Will’s shirt as their bodies moved against each other.

They continued this way, loud and desperate, until Hannibal felt as if he may actually suffocate on his own need. His head dropped away from Will’s lips in an impatient groan.

“Untie me.” Hannibal demanded. His mouth still tasted of Will’s iron and his tone was hazy a lust that made Will’s skin move.

Will gathered himself enough to speak, still grinding against Hannibal’s lap with an exasperated rhythm. “Why would I do that?” He asked. He was gasping for air but his voice was stable in all other means. While he waited for Hannibal’s response, he nipped at the skin of his jaw.

Hannibal hummed to himself, choosing his words carefully and enjoying the feel of Will’s teeth on him. “So I can take you on this table.” He said, gesturing his head in that direction. His words were somewhere between suggestion and order; he wasn’t confident with which Will wanted to hear from him.

Will followed his gesture and turned to look at the temping surface, but said nothing.

“Will,” Hannibal said. “My dangerous boy,” He pressed his lips on Will’s neck in soft, wet kisses. “Let me free.”

“Say please.”

“Please.”

Will smiled, seeming to finally agree with the proposal. He reached down Hannibal’s arms to where the ropes still held him and pulled on them, but not to undo them. When he was certain that both knots that held his arms were still stable, he got up off Hannibal’s lap with a chuckle to himself.

Hannibal growled at the movement. “Will.” He said, attempting to command Will back to his whim.

Will turned away from Hannibal, being sure to pick the knife up from the floor and leave it on the table as a way to further Hannibal’s upset. He looked coyly over his shoulder before walking off towards the stairs to their bedroom. “Free yourself.”

He could hear Hannibal angrily call after him once more before he turned out the lights.

_Should have gone with ‘pretty please.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter of this should be up soon. I wasn't going to post this until they were both complete, but today seemed to be a proper day for it. 
> 
> Stay tuned for dom!Hannibal/sub!Will, Hannibal's revenge, and some (definitely not light) choking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal gets his last word in.

The remains of the now-splintered dining chair were in much worse shape than Hannibal’s raw wrists and ankles. He climbed the stairs with labored breath, shoulders and chest heaving as he tried to center himself. Most of his blood had dried completely, cracking on his skin as he moved. The only wound still bleeding was the one on his side, but it had slowed from its torrent gushing to only a dampness on the heat of his flesh. He didn’t bother to clutch at it.

At the top of the stairs there were two closed doors that lead to the bedroom. They were white and gold, and caused a reaction of excitement in him as if Hannibal were surprised they were still there.

The mental image of Will waiting for him, seated at the edge of the bed, ready for Hannibal to have his way with him was something he idolized like its own holy text- and it was _just_ beyond those doors. Will was likely scared, too, if he could hear the commotion Hannibal meant for him to hear as he _‘_ freed himself’ downstairs. The collective concept crashed on Hannibal’s mind, his eagerness eating away at his upset the closer his hand came to the door handle. He half expected it to be locked.

His jaw dropped, however, as his fantasy was ripped out from under him. Hannibal’s eyes had been given plenty of time to adjust to the dark, making Will’s pale face even easier to pick out from where it rested on his pillow. The room reeked of Will’s sweat and the apparent solo-orgasm he had helped himself to in Hannibal’s absence.

Hannibal’s aggression boiled under his chin, making a smile crawl across his face like a contagion. He was just as angry with Will’s actions, as he was proud. He crossed the floor to the bedside table next to where Will slept and quietly opened the drawer. He extracted the bottle of lube that had been moved to a more visible location than where it was typically kept. The bottle was still warm from Will’s palm.

Hannibal looked to Will in silence. He was laying on his stomach with his cheek crushed against the firmness of his pillow. Will used to sleep on his side, turned away from Hannibal’s side of the bed with a hand tucked beneath his pillow; sleeping on his stomach was much more common now. His arms would reach out in the night and find a place on Hannibal’s chest to hold, or wrap around his own face in a youthful defense of any light that may want to intrude. Right now, both of his arms seemed to be tucked under his chest. He looked blissful and serene. Hannibal did not.

“Impatient.” Hannibal spat to accompany the hard slap sound of wood on wood, as he slammed the bedside table drawer shut.

Will was startled awake by the sound, eyes open as wide as his mouth, while his sleepy mind tried to remember where he was and what was happening. He rolled on to his back but, before he could settle on any conclusions, Hannibal closed his hand over his throat. He shoved his head back into the pillow.

Will’s hands worked to pry Hannibal from him while Hannibal moved to sit casually next to him on the bed. He was the visual essence of calm while he choked him, and watched him struggle. It didn’t take Will too long to settle into this new situation though, his fight for survival turning to writhing for more contact.

Hannibal pulled away the bedding away from Will’s body. He was now dressed in his own pajamas. They were lighter in color and heavier in fabric type than Hannibal’s, but very similar. Hannibal placed the lube within his each on the bed and started to tug down Will’s pants with his free hand.

“You couldn’t wait.”

Will was stuck smiling. The hands that clawed at Hannibal’s wrists were passive and gentle, sometimes even pulling down and making Hannibal’s grip tighten on him. Will lifted his hips to allow Hannibal to pull the elastic down to his mid-thigh, exposing his cock to the room. This was _exactly_ what Will had hoped for.

Will turned his head the best he could, catching the pale light from their clock and laughed.

“An hour and a half.” He said. His voice was repressed but still audible; this wasn’t the first time he’d been made to speak in this kind of situation. He’d had plenty of practice. “I wasn’t sure you were still coming.”

“So you decided to come for the both of us?” Hannibal growled with quick response.

Will’s body shuttered, making him laugh nervously. The laugh found itself cut short when Hannibal tightened his grip on his throat and shook him.

Hannibal reached for the lubricant again, applying a small amount to his hand. “You could have waited.” He prompted. He grabbed at Will’s cock, massaging it in his palm before stroking him out. His touch was shockingly delicate in comparison to how he held Will’s neck. The contrasting sensation sent volts throughout Will’s body, leaving his head spinning and the muscles of his stomach tight.

“I tried to.” Will said, crying out despite his want to appear composed. He wasn’t nearly as good at hiding his true feelings when he was on the receiving end of the torment, much to Hannibal’s delight. 

Hannibal snorted. “I’m going to have to get you as worked up as you were when you left me.” He half threatened, half promised. He continued to work his hand over Will’s cock with expertise, while keeping his eyes steady on Will’s face.

He watched Will’s reactions carefully; from the redness in his cheeks and the tears building in his eyes, to the smile that tickled against his teeth. His pulse was racing. Hannibal could feel that under the fingers on both of his hands as Will bent and twisted for him. He listened to his breathing and relaxed his grip as he needed to- he had no intention of Will passing out on him again.

Hannibal followed through on his threat, teasing at Will’s most sensitive parts and pieces until he was trembling, dripping, and kicking his legs out from underneath him. Hannibal’s name could be found in every summon-of-air that Will made; every groan, gasp, and cry for more belonged to Hannibal as much as Will did.

Will kept one hand on Hannibal’s wrist, pulling on him to encourage the use of more force. The other was wildly searching for something in the sheets to hold on to. A tickling heat built in his belly and thighs as he fought his body to not thrust up in-time with Hannibal’s gestures. He knew if he showed too much of how close he was, Hannibal would stop.

And Hannibal did stop. As numbing sprays of euphoria spilled into Will’s extremities, and as his distressed sounds collided with one-another in his throat, Hannibal stopped touching him entirely.

Will collapsed into the bed, suddenly feeling hollow and painfully empty. A rosy mark was left on his neck, in place of Hannibal’s hand. He rubbed at it, attempting the sooth the pleasant soreness that lingered.

“You prick.” Will complained. His voice was raw and cracked, but he was _still_ smiling.

Hannibal snorted at him as a way of accepting his new title. Will had squirmed for him enough that his pants only clung to his ankles out of hope. Hannibal removed them for him completely and tossed them to the floor as he stood.

“How does it feel?” Hannibal asked, not giving Will time to assess an answer of his own. He grabbed Will by the meat of his hip and rolled him on to his stomach.

Will groaned along with the movement, but he didn’t fight it.

Hannibal got back up on the bed, and fit himself between Will’s legs. He led his hands down Will’s back, his ribs, his waist, until he caught his hips again. He yanked them up and into his own, summoning another groan from his nearly-spent partner as the bare backs of his thighs met with the dampened cotton that still covered Hannibal’s groin.

Will helped himself up on all fours and leaned himself back, grinding down on the older man’s erection.

Hannibal wanted to moan and push back, but he wasn’t done teasing. He fought it. “How does it feel to be shocked from your peaceful sleep? To be lead so carefully to the edge, only to be abandoned and lost?” Hannibal repeated and expanded on his question. He reached back with his free hand and removed the paring knife he had been storing in the waistband of his pants. It was meant to be a surprise.

Hannibal sliced quickly and deliberately into Will’s back, carving 5 straight lines in a non-random pattern. Will cried out with each incision. He could feel the familiar shapes taking form, but he wasn’t confident enough to call Hannibal out on it. Blood rolled down his flesh and dripped into the sheets.

Hannibal dropped the knife and clamped his hand down on the new carnage. The motion had dual intent: To both stop the bleeding and to apply a stinging, uncomfortable pressure.

“Don’t ever drug me again.” He hissed.

Will moaned against the pain and nodded violently with apologies.

Hannibal continued to hold Will’s hip while reaching under the younger man to trace a line from his taint to his tailbone. He was still slick with residue from the lube he had used to play with himself.

Will felt Hannibal’s grip on his hip tighten, unintentionally, marking him with the crescent-shaped edges of his fingernails. Will knew he had just forced the image of him helplessly fingering himself into Hannibal’s mind. There was no way for Hannibal to know that Will had only stretched himself in preparation of the very angry Hannibal he had left downstairs to come up and tear into him. There was no way for Hannibal to know that he had already come _before_ acting on this. There was only evidence available to lead Hannibal believe that Will had sat upstairs, fingering himself in impatient wait for his upcoming punishment. He had struck Hannibal once again without even having said a word.

Regardless of the victory he needed to keep to himself, Will was now _beyond_ impatient for his punishment to come to a full close.

“Please, Hannibal.” He begged, turning his head into his own shoulder. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath along with it.

“You make that sound as if an hour and a half is a long time to keep you waiting.” He said, before opening his eyes and reaching again for the bottle of lube.

Will moved his hips in circles over Hannibal’s lap, but Hannibal paid this no mind. He applied more lube to his hand and leaned over Will’s back as he warmed it between his fingers.

“Need I remind you that I waited three years for you?” He spoke into the back of Will’s neck as Will’s body arched up to meet him. “And that you weren’t bound in any way to prevent you from seeing me?”

Will bit into the flesh of his shoulder to stifle another cataclysmic sound.

“You were just being _a prick_.”

Hannibal sat back upright and slid two of his lube slicked fingers into Will. Will’s arms buckled, causing him to collapse face-first into his pillow. His ass stayed in the air, pushing back urgently against Hannibal’s fingers.

Hannibal bent down and bit into the rounded curve of the younger man’s ass cheek. He pulled the skin through his teeth as he worked his fingers in and out of Will’s orifice. It wasn’t long before Will was screaming Hannibal’s name again, still pushing back and begging for Hannibal to take him properly.

“What do you want, Will?” Hannibal asked. He kissed at the large, purple rectangle he was leaving behind on his skin. His voice had a soothing pull to it now, unlike the harsh animalistic tones he’d been displaying for Will most of the night.

“You.” Will shouted, too aggressively and too quickly. “Please, Hannibal. Please.”

Will felt embarrassed, disappointed in his own desperation. The only way he kept complete self-frustration away was to remind himself that Hannibal was weak for this. When Will got worked up and found himself begging for Hannibal’s affection, Hannibal couldn’t help himself. Even when Will was losing, he was winning.

Hannibal removed his fingers from Will, ready to follow finally orders. He hopped off the bed and removed his own pants before getting back into his preferred position. He glutinously stroked his own cock, spreading the remaining lube on his hands down his length. He kept his eyes on Will while he felt himself.

“God.” Will cursed. He was watching Hannibal watch him, and losing himself to it. “Please.”

Hannibal smirked. He led the head of his cock to Will’s fully spread ass, teasing it against his hot skin. He wanted to take this as painfully slow as he could, but he knew Will wouldn’t let him. Will was unrestrained, completely free to do as he pleased, which made the situation much more delicious and inviting…But Hannibal knew that the second he penetrated him, Will would be in charge again.

Hannibal slipped himself into Will and Will’s hips bucked back on him instantly. He took Hannibal in from head to base, all while calling for him. Before Hannibal felt he could move, Will was already pumping himself over Hannibal’s cock with determination.

Hannibal began to thrust back against him, knowing exactly how he needed to move to strike against Will’s prostrate and denying him that every time he was able. Will was moaning a litany of profanities into their mattress without it, but when Hannibal _did_ hit him correctly the profanities turned into rough screams of joy. It was prayer to deity that resided within Hannibal’s walls.

Eventually, Hannibal felt Will’s body give in to his exhaustion. His fight to thrust back was non-existent and his legs trembled as if they were ready to crumble beneath him like aging stone. He was down to whispering Hannibal’s name as his throat and mouth came to remember how sore they were.

Hannibal refused to hold back at this. He grabbed at Will’s hips with both of his hands, gaining their complete control and forcing those hips to where _he_ wanted them. Each of his movements remained rough and careless until he came, spilling inside of Will just as much as he released onto the backs of his thighs.

The moment he was done, his grip on Will became gentler. Hannibal’s demeanor softened so much that the room seemed to grow brighter. At least, in his eyes it did.

He pressed Will down flat into the bed, which Will could not even fathom the energy he would need to fight, and rolled him back on to his back. Will gazed up at the ceiling, gasping for air and the ability to speak. He was wrecked. He had been so used. He loved it.

Hannibal moved up on the bed and straddled Will’s waist so that his still erect cock was positioned behind him. He watched Will, as he reached behind himself and stroked him against his own ass, carefully moving his own hips until he felt Will release into his hand, shooting warm liquid up his spine.

Then Hannibal collapsed, falling into the space on the mattress just next to Will. Will closed into him like he was designed for it; their arms embraced each other’s backs, and their legs founds new ways to tangle as their faced each other.

“Wasn’t that a much better method of dealing with your impulses than what you originally had in mind?” Hannibal asked after he had caught his breath. He raised his chin to rest it on the top of Will’s head as Will closed even further into him.

“Yes.” Will said, nodding. He slipped his head against Hannibal’s collarbone. “I’m…sorry I drugged you.”

Hannibal smiled. “I figured you might, when we first discussed this. I didn’t speak up then.” He pulled his head back and leaned away from Will so that he could see his face. He brought his lips down to rest between Will’s eyebrows, kissing him. “You’re forgiven.”

Will sighed happily to himself and closed his eyes.

“Do you feel we are even?” Hannibal spoke, the smallest of teases lingering in his tone.

Will opened one of his eyes and looked up at the other man. “Yes.” He said. He sounded suspicious of the question, and he was.

Hannibal nodded as if he was considering this before speaking again. “Are you alright?” He asked.

Will nodded, again. He kept only one eye open as he slowly began to pull himself away.

“You normally have so much more to say.”

Will groaned with detest. This was precisely where he figured this conversation was heading. He rolled away from Hannibal, turning his back to him.

“Especially when I finish first. You always have plenty to say about that.” Hannibal continued. He practically chased Will on the bed, spooning up beside him and resting his chin in the curve of Will’s neck. “You had plenty to say earlier tonight. What happened?” He brought his lips to Will’s ear and spoke against his earlobe. “Are you hindered by something?”

Hannibal had noticed the way the letters of Will’s words bled together in a soft slur as he spoke. He knew exactly what was wrong.

Will rolled his eyes before shutting them both as if he were going to sleep. “Hannibal, please.”

Hannibal laughed to himself. “Could it be that you decided to split your tongue open? The thing you use to speak and _sass_ me?”

Will sighed in defeat. His tongue did hurt, and had hurt. He could feel it swelling in his mouth and, since he had moved upstairs, the pain was only getting worse. It hurt to bend it into the shapes needed to form words. Combined with bruising he could feel on his throat and the way his screaming had torn up his lungs, he wasn’t in much mood for conversation.

“I thought you’d like it.” He explained, still using as few words as possible.

Hannibal couldn’t help but smile and press his lips on the nape of Will’s neck. “I did.”

Will hummed at the feeling, smiling to himself. “Then I don’t regret it.” And he didn’t.

Hannibal manipulated Will’s body so that he faced him again, by pushing on his shoulder so that he would roll. He reached to his face and parted Will’s lips with his thumb, coaxing him to stick out his tongue.

It didn’t look at bad as Hannibal expected it to, just wearing a wobbly line of red down the surface of his tongue skin. The area around it was swollen and pink, but it was nothing Will’s body couldn’t handle.

“Regardless of your regret,” Hannibal said after his assessment. He pressed his thumb against the cut and watched Will wince with it. “You aren’t going to be eating any solids for a few days.”

Will sighed with a second wave of disappointment and brought his tongue to rest back in his mouth. He shifted so that the position Hannibal has forced him in was more comfortable, lying flat on his back and wrapping an arm under Hannibal’s neck and shoulders.

Hannibal moved with him again, finding every way possible to press against him. His head rested comfortably into Will’s collar. “And with all my blood in your belly, you aren’t going to be _feeling_ your best for a while either.” As he spoke, as if to add to the conversation, he rested a hand over Will’s stomach and rubbed it in small circles.

Will didn’t sigh this time, or groan. He wrapped his arm around Hannibal’s back and brought him in closer. He wanted Hannibal to be crushed against his side as firmly as he could be.

“But you’ll take care of me.” Will stated. He knew perfectly well that Hannibal would.

“Yes.” Hannibal said. He closed his own eyes.

Will stared down at Hannibal, and where he fit into him. His hair was messy, exposing the multi-colored strands of silver, blonde, and caramel. Hannibal’s legs slowly shifted until his thigh was resting over Will’s. Will tightened a hand over his shoulder, massaging him before gaining the courage to speak again.

“Will these all scar?” He asked.

Hannibal thought for a moment before opening his eyes and turning his head to look up at Will. “The one on my back will, yes.” He said. “I assume that is the one you care about the most.”

Will smiled. The cut he had made to Hannibal’s back, the one that cut through the Verger Brand, was easily Will’s favorite damage of the night. He hated that scar. He hated seeing the Verger name every time Hannibal got out of bed, or the shower, and he hated feeling its shape when he held him. He wanted to destroy it, or at the very least insure that the scarring he would cause would be more impactful; a reminder that Hannibal was _his_ , not Mason Verger’s. And it would appear that he had accomplished that.

“And what about the others? I care about the others.” Will asked as he reached down to touch the deep cut in Hannibal’s back. It was still tacky, but no longer bled. The sheets were dark or it probably would be leaving a long stain in the fabric.

 “The ones on my chest might also.” Hannibal answered. He looked back down, turning into Will’s chest and planting a kiss where his lips fell. “The others…will heal soon.”

Will shifted under him. “And mine? On my back?”

Hannibal smiled against Will’s skin, turning into him even more so. Will could feel his chest shake as Hannibal tried to hide the humor he sound in the situation. “I’m certain that my _initials_ will leave a scar.”

 _Five cuts_. Will thought, remembering. _Three for H, two for L._

Will rolled his eyes, but smiled warmly. “You carved your initials into my back?”

“Yes.” Hannibal stated, simply. He was completely amused by himself and his actions, as he often was.

Will’s brought his hand back to Hannibal’s shoulder, hugging him the same way he had been before. “We aren’t even, then.” He said, with one eyebrow cocked. He closed his eyes instead of waiting on Hannibal’s reply.

“No.” Hannibal confirmed. “We’re not.”

The two of them sighed, softly and juvenilely laughing as they both pondered what Will’s next reckoning would be. They fell asleep holding each other, but not before Will spoke one more sentence over his swollen and aching tongue.

“I love you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s hands unconsciously tightened, gripping in to Will as if he may move away. It wasn’t the first time Will had said it, probably not even the twentieth, those words coming from Will’s mouth always had this punching effect on him. He cleared his throat.

“I love you, Will.”


End file.
